A/N: I can't really offer you a real reason why I picked this up. I just had this moment early last week where I was like, Hey. Let's write about mythology. I spent about two days deliberating over which set of myths I wanted to write about, then a few days longer listening to my 'inspiration songs' on iTunes in a ditch effort to plot something. This is what I got. Please enjoy (:
Warnings: Language, sexual themes
Mythological Characters (who play major roles) You May Recognise: Hades, Thanatos, Apollo
A/N Edit: So, I'm working on the next part of this but it is ON HOLD while I do my NANO, so I'm not sure when I'll return. So this is now drabble status with an indefinite complete.
Nola Glaisyer was born 'asleep.' Strangled by her own cord, the very thing that had allowed her to live, she entered the world blue and purple and very much dead. She was a beautiful baby with a head full of dark hair, a sweet button nose, and ten perfect fingers and toes. Her mother sobbed at the sight of her. There she was, the child she had been preparing for not only for the past nine months but for the past two years with her husband, dead. Beside her a large red headed man's hand felt limp in her own as the father stared with unwavering eyes at his stillborn daughter.
Dr. Siebert untangled the lethal cord from Nola's neck reverently and Nola's father could not bring his eyes away. He watched intently as the doctor handed the little blue faced corpse to a nurse and saw how there, just there, she gave a minuscule cough.
"She's breathing," he muttered to himself, wrenching his hand from his wife's and lumbering forcefully across the room.
The nurse tried to pull Nola from his grasp. "Sir, it isn't protocol for you to see her yet..."
"She's breathing," he repeated earnestly, reaching once more for his little girl.
From the bed his wife continued to cry. "Stop it, Leon. Please, just stop it."
But Leon wouldn't stop. "Just look at her!"
The nurse holding Nola looked and nearly dropped the child where she stood.
She really was breathing. The dead little girl was alive.
The nurse dashed to the incubator and quickly suctioned Nola's nose and mouth with a bulb. The little girl gave a half-hearted cough again and the faintest twinge of colour bled into her cheeks before she gave her first piercing cry.
Leon laughed and thanked every god of whom he had ever heard.
Her mother cried harder.
"That was a mistake," said the first Fate.
The third added, "It was her time."
"We cut her thread ourselves," the second chimed.
The Olympian before them offered his best apologetic smile. "Now ladies, I'm sure I can explain..."